


screaming in the dark

by Trojie



Series: Howl [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Dean Winchester, Extremely Dubious Consent, Facials, Fisting, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Spitroasting, Stockholm Syndrome, The Author Apologises, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a very specific kind of predator. And Cas just made himself a target.</p>
            </blockquote>





	screaming in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Extremely dubious consent of the Stockholm Syndromey type, bordering on non-con, demon's blood addict!Sam, demon!Dean, fisting, spitroasting, orgasm denial, facial. THIS GETS FUCKING NASTY. EVERYONE IS WARNED.

Cas had to know this was gonna happen, right? He had to know that confronting them was just gonna give Dean the scent, kinda thing, because they're _hunters_ and being a threat makes him prey, just like everything else. 

Sam's not complaining, though. Because Cas, whatever else he is and whatever else he's done and however hard he's right now trying to pretend he isn't, is one of them. Will always be one of them. As close to a brother as either of them still has. Not quite as important, because let's face it, Sam and Dean, that's a thing of it's own. But Cas? He's _theirs_ , they fucking _own him_ , and they're gonna prove it.

This whole thing - the Mark, the blood, fighting evil, saving people - has been a hell of a ride. Sam thinks maybe it'd feel even better if they had Cas along with them. He looks up to catch sight of the angel in their rearview, handcuffed and strapped into the Impala's back seat as they bowl along a back road, and amends that to _if they had Cas joining in._

'Will you just kill me, please?' Cas asks. He still sounds so calm. 

'Why'd we do that?' Dean asks. 'You're no fun if you're dead.'

'I'm not intending on being fun at all,' Cas throws back. 'We don't agree on what 'fun' is, right now.'

'Oh, but we're gonna,' says Dean. 'Sammy? Get in the back.' And he slaps Sam's ass as Sam wriggles over the seat, too. 

Sam's gonna enjoy this. He likes being watched, and Dean knows it. He makes it over the seat back and settles into the cradle of the Impala's backseat, up against the door, letting him spread out as much as he can with Cas sitting at the other end, trying to get away, braced for a fight as much as he can all trussed up like that.

Does he think Sam's gonna attack, or something? God, he's so wrong, and yet … maybe he's not that far off.

Sam starts slow, works a hand up his shirt to cup his pec, thumb over his nipple. He likes that, god, likes it so good with two pairs of eyes on him. Because Cas _is_ watching, despite his protests that he's not gonna play the game. Sam pushes the rough pad of his thumb over his nipple again and again, under his shirt. Teasing, slow as his lazy heartbeat. 

'Fuck me,' breathes Dean from the front seat. 'Cas, you seein' this?' Sam hopes he's keeping his eyes on the road at least some of the time. 

Cas refuses to answer, but his eyes are wider than the darkness in the car really needs. Sam starts to reach down. Slow, it's all about slow, and about how many tiny little noises he can make. He lets himself whimper, sliding his hand over his dick where it's straining in his jeans, and he'd swear he heard Cas breathe in just a little bit deeper. Dean smiling at him in the mirror, dark and nasty, is the last thing he sees before his eyes shut. Make it look like this is swamping him. Make Cas think he's losing control, that there's an opening. 

Sam's a very specific kind of predator. He knows how to set this trap.

He gets the button popped on his jeans one-handed, easy, going harder on his nipples so that his shirt will ride up his forearm, giving a better peep show to his audience. The zipper parts when he pushes his hand in, fingers spread. No underwear, because that would've just been poor planning. 

'He's a big boy, huh Cas?' Dean says, lower than before. 'Ever wonder what it'd feel like? You ever watch him, back in the day? When he was running around without his soul, fucking whores? I'm a little jealous,' he says, and his voice is rich and dark and it makes Sam hungry for him, hearing him talk like this.

'He was a deeply troubled man that year,' Cas says, but it sounds strangled. 'I watched over him -'

'Mmmm, I just bet you did.'

Cas might say something else but Sam doesn't care, because he's got his hand around his dick now, and he's shoving the jeans down with his other hand, and then with his feet, pushing them away, kicking them into the footwell and dragging sharp fingernails back up his chest to scrape at his sore nipples again. It's hard to be slow any more. He pumps at his cock once, twice, okay, a few times, a few times more, until Dean's huffed-out laugh makes him finally let go, and move on to the main event. The plan they hashed out with Dean buried balls-deep in Sam's ass two nights ago.

Sam drags his hand, sticky with his own mess, down there now, and starts to touch. Starts to finger himself open, moaning with it and maybe he's putting on a show but he doesn't have to fake this part of it. To be honest, he hasn't been faking much of it at all, but god, he loves this. He pulls his hand free and spits in it, wet and messy and that's how Sam likes it. Harsh. Hard. He loves the feel of something stuffed up inside him, even if it's just his own fingers, crooked at an imperfect angle and not quite long enough to give him what he needs. 

Because that? That's the whole plan. 

'Cas,' Sam lets himself groan, pumping three fingers in, starting to actually feel as desperate as he's acting. 'Fuck, I - I -'

'Look at him, Cas,' Dean croons. Sam cracks an eyelid. His brother is still driving, one handed, eyes in the rearview and Sam can just bet on where his other hand is, because his brother is a dirty hedonist. Cas is still curled away, uncomfortable, but he's looking. God, yeah, he's looking. Sam's fingers twitch and he didn't even mean them to. 'You know he's feeling the stretch now, right? But it's not enough, is it. C'mon, Sammy. Tell Cas what you need.'

Sam pumps his fingers harder, searching for something he can't quite reach right. 'More,'

'What kinda more, sweet thing?'

Sam licks his lips, waits for Cas's eyes to catch his, just for a moment. 'Want a fist,' he says as hotly as he can. Because he remembers, oh shit yeah, he remembers, and he'll bet Cas remembers too, the feeling of having Cas's whole hand inside him, touching that void. 

It hurt. It hurt like burning, but Sam without his soul was better than Sam with it ever was at admitting that he likes it when it hurts. 'Want Cas's fist.'

Dean makes a noise, half-pleased and half-horny. 'Shit, yeah, I'd like to see that,' he murmurs. 'Whaddya think, Cas, huh? You gonna give Sammy what he wants?'

See, what they're thinking, what they're planning on, is that angels are lightning rods for human emotions, and Cas is … Cas is wired to them, to their frequency. Sam's pretty sure if he begs long enough, if he needs hard enough, Cas will give him what he wants. And once he's crossed that line, all the others will just look like hopscotch squares. They'll jump him right to the end.

Hell, the way Dean's looking at him in that mirror, they'll jump long him before that. And then … 

Sam moans, long and low, ripe for touching, and Cas's baby blues are fixed on him now. Yahtzee. 

'Need it,' Sam pants, free hand back up under his shirt, pinching. 'God, need it so bad. Please,' he breathes, putting as much of the junkie whine into it as he dares. It's not a lie. Blood he craves. Sex is something else, not the same but akin somehow. And he wants it. He wants it so, so fucking bad. 'Please, Cas. _Please_.'

Cas is leaning towards him, now. Just a little, but it's enough. Dean slows the car down enough, gravel crunching under her wheels, that he can twist lightning quick over the back and uncuff Cas. 'Go get him, tiger,' he says, dropping back into his seat. It's a dangerous move, letting him free, but it'll be worth it, if this goes how they planned.

Cas's hands are unbelievably gentle when he pushes Sam's thighs wider, and he's shaking. He's honest to God trembling, like this is overwhelming him. But he's sure and heavy when he leans in and pins Sam to the vinyl. 'You do not have to do this,' he says. It's a weak effort. Sam fumbles the actual lube out of the ashtray where they keep it for emergencies. Like when they're horny. 

'I don't have to do anything,' he says, pushing the tube into Cas's hand. 'But I want this. Fuck, Cas, I haven't stopped thinking about it.'

'About what?' Cas asks, brow wrinkling, even as his fingers close around the half-empty, sticky lube, and his thumb flicks the cap open, like autopilot. 

'About having you inside me.' Sam lets his voice drop low, as low as it goes, until it's soft in his lungs, like velvet. 'Soul-fisting me.'

Cas's eyes are huge, wide with emotion. 'I remember you screaming,' he says. 'I remember the marks of your teeth in my leather belt.'

'I remember wanting more,' Sam throws back. He's still got half his hand stuffed up in himself, but Cas is spilling lube between them with shaky fingers and in the rearview Dean's expression is dark as fuck and _hungry_. Sam knows he's getting off on this. He's known Dean was a voyeur since before he knew what the word meant. And he knows that despite what Dean says, Cas is _his_. His angel. His tool. There's no way Dean isn't getting off like crazy on the idea of using Cas to fuck Sam like a sex toy. 

'Course, Dean's also probably jealous as hell over it. God. Sam doesn't know exactly which way Dean'll go, if Cas is gonna live after he's put his hands on Sam ( _in Sam_ , Jesus Christ), but if it doesn't end in Dean's dick up Sam's ass, the world's fallen off its axis. And as much as he's enjoying playing Cas, Sam's really looking forward to that.

Sam lolls his head back against the window as Cas finally takes the bait, wet sloppy fingers pulling Sam's hand free, and he sees a roadsign flash past, some town, close enough to signpost, too fast to read. 

'You boys've got til the next motel,' Dean says. 'Cas, you better make him happy.'

Cas looks up, and whatever it is he reads on Dean's face, it makes him shiver, catch that chapped bottom lip between his teeth, and slide three fingers into Sam's ass. His other hand reaches over Sam's shoulder to brace against the door and get some leverage. 

'That's it, Cas,' Dean growls. 'Put it to him hard. I wanna see him filled right the fuck up.'

Dean keeps talking. Sam lets the words, the porno dialogue that Dean always spouts, wash over him. It's a soundtrack of filth, familiar from so many years of overhearing, and it's background to the way he arches his back to get a better angle, bares his throat, and just for a second wonders if they searched Cas well enough, if he's got an angel blade somewhere on him to pull. Sam's not sure if he's gone darkside enough to light up inside, or if it'd just make him bleed. The idea makes him spread just that little bit wider, though. 

Dean's still talking.

Cas is staring down between them like he's hypnotised. Sam squirms, pants, plays to his audience, and when Cas adds that fourth finger, when the tip of his thumb starts to flirt with the edge of Sam's hole, the noises aren't even a little bit faked. 

'Keep going, Cas,' says Dean intently. 'He's not even close to done yet.'

'Oh, fuck, yeah,' Sam grits out prayerfully, eyes fixed on Dean's in the mirror, one hand on his dick and one on his nipples, pinching and pulling. 'Dean, please -'

Dean-in-the-mirror is black-eyed and smirking. 

_'Please_ -'

'Cas?'

Sam can hear it when Cas swallows, that's how rough his throat is. 'Please, Dean,' he says. Different kinda plea, same reaction: Dean's smile just widens. 

'Put it in, Cas. Let him have it.'

The thing about Cas is, he does what he's told when it's Dean telling him, even like this, and he's _strong_. Sam's world turns a little inside out for a moment. 'Oh, fuck -'

Cas's thumb gets folded in and Jesus, the width of it, wedging in - let's just say it's good that Cas has leverage. When the broadest part is past, when it narrows again and Cas's wristbones are grinding up against Sam's rim, Sam suddenly realises he hasn't been breathing. 

The rush of oxygen when he starts again makes him lightheaded.

The feel of a fist inside you isn't just the right side of too much, it's so far over the line that Sam can't even see it. It feels like there shouldn't be that much space inside him, but there is, there has to be, because Cas is all up in it, his fingers all tucked in tight, fingernails out of harms way, scraping along Sam's insides as gently and as sure and as painfully as Cas's trueform hand in the wound where Sam's soul used to be. But the knotted ball of Cas's knuckles rubs at Sam's sweet spot harder than fingers ever could and better aimed than a dick, and Sam's vision goes just a little bit white. 

'Yeah, Sammy. Gettin' split open like that, feels good, huh? Not as good as my dick's gonna feel, but you know that already. Fuck, I like seeing you all wrecked like this. Like it when you're getting pounded. Like watching you take something big all up in you, know you're still gonna be tight as a fuckin' virgin for me after.'

It's like Cas isn't even there, like he's a fucking machine Dean wound up and turned on. Sam's gonna cream himself before they make the next town at this rate, and Dean's gotta know it too, because the car lurches to the side and crunches on gravel, coming to a halt so hard Cas ends up shoved even tighter into Sam's body, forearm-deep, and Sam can't help the groan it punches out of him. 

Dean's opening the door behind Sam in a split second, catching Sam as he spills half out of the car. 'Get out of him,' Dean growls at Cas. 'That ass is mine. But don't you worry, Sammy here's got something else for you.'

Cas pulls free, and it's not gentle. Sam feels hollowed out, negative space up to the eyeballs. And Cas's eyes are so wide it makes Sam think maybe they're halfway to their goal already. But Dean's pulling Sam to his knees, ass-out into the cold where Dean's standing, shoving three fingers harshly into his stretched-out, sore hole, and there's no more time for wondering, just for pulling Cas in by the hair, til he's breathing over Sam's cock. 

'You ran away last time,' Sam points out, arching his back just a little as Dean starts to push home. Fuck. Yes. _Yes._

Cas just meets his eyes, steady. And whether he's Zen or resigned or gone somewhere in his brain, to his little angelic happy place, Sam might never know, but Sam does know one thing, which is that he's about to get his dick sucked. He pulls, and Cas comes to him. He thumbs at the rough, chapped corner of Cas's mouth, and Cas opens up for him. The prey takes the bait, and Dean bottoms out with a dirty little grunt, slapping the Impala's roof. Sam doesn't feel empty any more.

'Not running away now, is he,' Dean groans. 'Are you wet, Sam? You making a mess for him to suck off you? All that sweet fuckin' slick you pump out, hottest goddamn thing, I swear to god. Make him drink it down, Sammy.'

Dean's fucking him so hard the car's rocking on its suspension, squeaking uh-uh-uh in time with Sam's own noises, and Sam's got both hands fisted at the base of Cas's skull, translating all that power, all that Dean-rhythm, through him into that beautiful, messed-up, stolen body. Into Cas. Cas, who's letting him, surrendering, giving up - or maybe _choosing -_

Cas looks up at him, though, and no. That's not anything but aeons-old patience. Cas is still fighting in there, and that fuck-you electric blue stare strikes Sam hard in the place that likes it _wrong_. He fucks Cas's mouth one more time, teeth and all, and that's all she wrote. 

Cas tries to pull away when Sam's come starts flooding his mouth, but Sam hangs on, pumping it in there. He knows, the first taste's the hardest to take. After that, everything gets easier.

'Uh-uh, Cas,' Dean says, and he grabs at Cas's hair too. 'Swallow it, like a good boy.'

Cas wrenches himself from side to side but he does swallow - Sam feels it over his hypersensitive dick, and the ripple of Cas's throat around him makes him tense, which means Dean, still balls-deep in him, feels it too. They let Cas pull away when they're sure he's done. 

'Tastes good, huh?' Dean says, and he shoves Sam down into the car properly, like a hands-and-knees cage over Cas's rage-trembling body, and crawls in after him. 'Bet you'd like more, wouldn't you, Cas? Maybe we could keep you in the front seat, fold you into the footwells, use to to keep our dicks warm for us on the road, in between fucks. Oh no, no sunshine, that's not for you -' and he reaches around Sam to pull Cas's hand away from his fly. 'Good little sex toys don't come, Cas. That's not what they're for.'

'I'm not your toy,' Cas rasps, slithering up against the door, out from under Sam as much as he can.

Dean's voice is amused, sliding past Sam's ear. 'I guess not. Not yet, anyway.' He slams upwards into Sam's body and holds it there, throbbing, so thick and hot that Sam's starting to twitch with interest again, already. 'We have this habit of breaking our toys.'

He pulls out of Sam's ass and slaps him. Sam pulls himself to one side, as much as he can on the narrow seat of the car. 'You want that other taste, Cas?' Dean purrs, stripping his dick lazily.

And Sam can _see_ the conflict in Cas's eyes. He wants it. It's already in him, that little tainted mouthful, and shit yeah, he wants more. But visceral compulsion and all his years locked tight in that earthbound body's not enough to overcome millennia of being a sexless, hunger-less celestial wavelength. 

On top of that, there's this: where do they go from here? Is this kill or be killed, or is Cas hoping for a third option? If he had a blade on him now'd be the time to use it, but he hasn't. Sam thinks maybe he wouldn't.

Maybe, just the tiniest bit of maybe, Cas has wanted a taste of Dean all along. 

'No,' Cas says, but he licks his lips. 

'Oh yes,' says Dean. 'Fuck, yes.'

Sam's treated to the sight of his brother's come dripping off Castiel's red, used mouth for about the ghost of a split second, before there's the familiar snap of cloth, and the angel disappears. 

'Should've cuffed him again,' Sam says, fishing for his pants in the footwell.

Dean stretches. 'He'll be back. You know he will. Now c'mon, shag ass. We got a lady to meet.'

**Author's Note:**

> There is at least one more part to this series. I'm so sorry.


End file.
